


down to my core

by fiveandnocents



Category: Y tu mamá también (2001)
Genre: Angst, Coming of Age, First Time, Julio has a lot of emotions, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Inexperience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-03-08 14:54:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13460604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiveandnocents/pseuds/fiveandnocents
Summary: Boca del Cielo isn’t the first time him and Tenoch have sex.It should’ve been. It should’ve been the first and only time - or better yet, they should’ve never had sex in the first place. But Julio has always been weak for Tenoch.





	1. Generation

**Author's Note:**

> This is honestly just my writers block excuse to write porn. Enjoy!

How it starts is only noticeable in how mundane it is. 

They’re high, because they’re always high, and they’re talking about sex, because that’s all they talk about. 

“You should’ve seen her titties man,” Tenoch says, overplaying his wistful sigh and Julio muffles his laugh in his knees and kicks at Tenoch’s arm with his socked foot. It knocks some ashes from their joint into Tenoch’s lap and he cusses while he brushes it off. “Fuck you, you’re just jealous you didn’t see them.”

“Yeah, forty year old hippies sunbathing naked with your mom. I really missed out - your mom is hot.” Julio expects the hand to his face and the subsequent wrestling match and he can’t stop giggling even when Tenoch gets the better of him and pins him on his back. They're pressed close, bodies aligned and Tenoch has one of Julio's wrists in his grip, but it loosens up when Julio relaxes under him.

“Now take it back you sick fuck,” Tenoch says, but he’s laughing too. 

Julio tries to school his face into submission, but he can feel the smile threatening to overtake his face. “I’m not the one who perved on his mom.”

“I didn’t fucking - I made sure I didn’t see her. Fuck where’s the joint?” Tenoch leans up, searching the floor for their discarded pot and Julio follows him, pushing up on his hands to stay in Tenoch’s orbit. 

“The other ones though. Weren’t they saggy or something?”

Tenoch makes a satisfied noise when he finds the joint, doesn’t move from where he’s hovering over Julio to take a drag. 

It’s like a switch flicks on in Julio’s brain. Things were fun and light and suddenly Julio’s breath is coming slower, deeper. He can’t look away from Tenoch’s lips wrapped around the roll of the joint, feels himself start to get hard when Tenoch blows the smoke out even though he gets a little in Julio’s face just because he’s an asshole and he can. 

“Nah, all that plastic surgery you know? They go up to the States for it. Be happy to know your taxes go to boob jobs.” Tenoch holds the last bit of the joint out for Julio and ends up putting it in his mouth for him when Julio almost topples over trying to lift one arm. 

It feels insane to be expected to take a hit when Julio can barely breathe. But Tenoch’s fingers feel so good pressed up against his lips and maybe he can just-

Julio purses his lips, eyes closing as he sucks in the last bit of pot. He doesn’t stop until Tenoch pulls the joint away, even though his lungs burn. He keeps holding the smoke - doesn’t exactly know what he’s waiting for but when his eyes flutter open, Tenoch is still close and his gaze is heavy. 

“Hold it,” Tenoch says, voice rough. 

Julio can’t nod or else everything will come bursting out in a cough so he just looks back. Tenoch watches him, assessing and the slightest bit of proud the longer that Julio listens. Julio’s fingers curl into the cushions and his eyes start to water, but he holds it. 

“Okay,” Tenoch says and pushes a hand against Julio’s chest. 

He lets the smoke out with a sigh of relief and turns his head to breathe in some fresh air. Belatedly, Julio realizes he blew all of it between them, but Tenoch doesn’t seem to mind. 

He’s leaning in close, forehead resting against the top of Julio’s head. He's heavy and Julio can see the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes in deep and slow. Julio turns so they’re facing each other, breath mingling. 

“Tenoch,” he hears himself say, breathless and sounding too much like Ana when she’s practically begging Tenoch for it in the middle of one of Saba’s parties. He doesn’t want to be like Ana, doesn’t want any part of this moment to remind Tenoch of anyone but Julio. 

He can feel Tenoch’s breath on his lips, hair brushing the apples of his cheeks, and his mouth opens of its own accord and Julio _wants this_. He wants it with an ache he hasn’t felt yet with Ceci and maybe it’s just the newness of it, the inherent wrongness, but it’s more likely that it’s just Tenoch with his too big shirts that gape at the neck and his burning eyes. 

Julio doesn’t move his hands, can’t really, with the way he’s leaning his weight back on them, so he leans in a half a centimeter more, brushing their lips together in a way that still couldn’t be considered a kiss if Tenoch didn’t want it to be. His arms ache like they’ll start to shake soon. He doesn’t move. 

Tenoch isn’t looking at him, gaze lowered to where Julio’s lips were when they were far enough away to see them. It somehow still pins Julio where he is, a succulent straining for more of Tenoch’s heat. 

“Tenoch, please,” Julio pleads. He’ll die if Tenoch doesn’t touch him. Burn up from the inside out. 

Tenoch’s lashes flutter, the only warning before their lips are pressed together in sweet relief. 

Julio’s arms buckle and Tenoch goes with him, melting into the sofa, and his weight pressing Julio down is bliss. He could see stars, is seeing stars and feeling their fission, that’s the only explanation for how he’s burning up. 

Tenoch grips Julio’s face and Julio goes with it when Tenoch moves him where he wants him, opens his jaw wide for Tenoch’s tongue and sucks. Tenoch’s fingers grip harder behind Julio’s neck as he moans with it and either his arms start to lose their strength too or it’s a calculated and vindictive move as his leg shifts up, spreading Julio’s and just barely brushing where he’s straining in his pants. 

Julio’s past the point of shame, past the point of coy, and he rolls his hips up, dragging his teeth along Tenoch’s tongue as he pulls away to moan. Tenoch nips at his chin in retaliation, but it’s too tender to really be anything other than painfully arousing. 

Julio’s a little jealous of Ana, if this is the kind of sex she gets to have all the time. Tenoch’s stories don’t seem so fake right now, but maybe it’s just them, together, and how good it is when they are because Tenoch looks just as dazed as Julio feels while he catches his breath. 

He finally moves a hand from where they’d been pinned beneath his back and brushes it against the exposed skin at Tenoch’s chest where his shirt hangs loose. He draws his hand down and a button pops without him exerting any pressure, so Julio keeps going, down and down until he gets to one that requires both hands, and then he stops, pushing his palm flat against Tenoch’s abdomen. 

Julio looks up to meet Tenoch’s eyes and bites his lip. Tenoch’s gaze is liquid heat and Julio wants their mouths back together _now_. 

He reaches up, intending to pull Tenoch down, and Tenoch snags his hand and pushes it back into the cushions in the same moment that he leans down to kiss Julio again. 

It’s overwhelming, having so much of Tenoch so close and Julio wants nothing else, can feel how much he wants it when he arches up against Tenoch’s thigh. He thinks he tries to say Tenoch’s name, but it comes out strangled and muffled between their lips. Tenoch’s hand comes up to push Julio’s shirt up, grip at his skin like he understood all Julio was asking for anyway. 

One of Julio’s hands is still caught in Tenoch’s grip and he uses the other one to reach between them, breathing in Tenoch’s gasp when the back of his hand brushes against the hard line of Tenoch’s cock in his shorts. 

He’d wanted to just undo the button on his pants, pull down the zipper to ease some of the pressure, but his own need seems unimportant in the face of Tenoch’s clear, undisguised want. 

He twists his wrist to scrabble at Tenoch’s waistband, feels a brief flicker of irritation that left hands even exist when they lack so much coordination, but it passes the moment Tenoch’s cock pops out of his shorts, pink and dripping and absolutely everything Julio has seen before but somehow better. 

Without warning, Tenoch rolls them so they’re facing each other on their sides - tight fit be damned - and Julio doesn’t protest because in moments Tenoch’s hand is pulling Julio out and all he can do is babble at the way the heads of their cocks brush together. He’s probably red all the way down to his shoulders, maybe even all the way down to his cock, a bright line down his body leading Tenoch to where he’s supposed to be. 

This could be bad, Julio thinks in between biting kisses. They don’t - Tenoch hasn’t done this before. Not with another boy. Julio’s own experience is limited to that one time back when Tenoch had the flu and Daniel had brought Julio to meet some of his _other_ friends and somehow Julio had ended up in a bedroom with his pants around his ankles and his cock in someone’s mouth. 

“Teno-” Julio starts. To say what? He doesn’t know, forgets anyway the moment that Tenoch pulls them closer together and wraps his own big hand around them both. Julio can barely hold on, fingers scrabbling at Tenoch’s arms and slipping on the fabric still covering them. _Fuck_ they’re still dressed. 

He can feel his toes curling and his mouth is slack and panting against Tenoch’s cheek. He wants to shove his fingers in it, press something against his own tongue because he feels so _empty_ , but he ends up not needing to because Tenoch is babbling against his ear in the way he does when he’s about to come and the hot rush of his breath against Julio’s skin is already burning him up and then Tenoch moans, “Julio,” and Julio is _done_. 

He feels like he never stops coming. The moment he feels like maybe he’s done, maybe his muscles will relax, he can feel Tenoch come too, splattering Julio’s stomach and dripping into the crease between his hip and thigh and he’s off again, delirious and feeling dirty with it. 

Julio doesn’t pass out, but it’s a near thing. He’s three blinks away from a nap when he feels Tenoch’s hand come up to rest on Julio’s hip and Julio is getting ready to smack him away if he even thinks about tickling him, but instead he can only take in a shuddering breath as Tenoch runs his thumb through his own come streaked on Julio’s body, rubbing it into the skin. 

He feels branded and when he cracks open his eyes, Tenoch is staring at Julio’s body like he owns it. It feels impossible after an orgasm like that, but Julio can feel his dick start to get hard again. 

Tenoch’s eyes snap to his when he notices, because he can’t not with how he was transfixed by the mess at Julio’s hips. Julio shudders at the look in them, dark and heated, and maybe Julio isn’t the only one that feels drugged with it right now. 

He licks his lips, sees Tenoch track the movement, and when their eyes meet again, he nods. 

Tenoch devours him.


	2. Distribution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You want it.”
> 
> It’s never a question, but Julio says yes every time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, instead of writing this whenever I needed a writer's block fix I ended up making this its own chaptered fic. Expect up to 2 to 3 (longer) chapters because I've definitely written at least 90% of the whole thing

Things don’t change. 

Or—they do, but not often enough, or consistently enough for Julio to really consider anything a change, more like a series of stupid, intermittent mistakes. He isn’t sure if he should be relieved or angry, because his fears about Tenoch leaving him don’t come true, but now that they haven’t, he can admit to himself that he wants more. He hasn't figured out exactly what that all entails yet, but he's fairly certain that he could figure it out if he wasn't hanging onto Tenoch's every word and action in the hopes of...something.

He gets what he wants in snippets. Brief, blissful moments where Tenoch brackets him against a wall, looms over him with every inch of dizzying height, and whispers, “You want it.”

It’s never a question, but Julio says yes every time. 

There’s no pattern to it, and that’s the part that drives Julio crazy. He can never tell if a race in the pool will end with Tenoch dunking his head under the water until Julio pinches his arms, or if Tenoch will reel him in and kiss him long enough that they end up gasping into each other’s mouths as they grind their hips together under the water. 

It’d be easier if he had a reference, something conveniently entitled "Inside the Mind of Tenoch Iturbide: An Interactive Guide". 

Maybe the rarity of it is the reason why Julio feels overwhelmed and so out of his mind with it that all he can do is hold on for the ride. 

The first time Tenoch slides a finger in him, Julio bites down on his lip on accident and Tenoch pulls his head back with a curse, but doesn’t move his hand. It’s like he doesn’t notice it either, too focused on whining—“Fuck, I’m probably bleeding.” (He’s not)—to pay attention even though it’s all Julio can think about. His mouth feels like the Chihuanan and he’s not sure where he’s looking other than that it has to be at Tenoch because he’s _everywhere_. 

Then Tenoch moves, barely a twitch inside of him, but it feels like the most hedonistic glide, and Julio moans louder than he has in his life. 

He can feel Tenoch’s grin against his cheek as he whispers, “Oh, so it’s like that?” And Tenoch has just as little experience as Julio does with this, but he still manages to render Julio into nothing more than a panting mess of arousal in a matter of minutes, spread wide on three fingers and dripping with lube that Julio didn’t even know they had. 

Julio can’t even mumble out Tenoch’s name. His tongue feels too big for his mouth, and the moment he feels like he’s caught his breath, he chokes on it. 

“I want to fuck you,” Tenoch says, moving his fingers in a choppy imitation of what he’s asking for. 

Julio should probably say no, or demand that they move to a bed or even to the couch right next to them, but he just nods frantically against Tenoch’s chest and rubs his lips against the skin in a facsimile of a kiss before he yields into the push of Tenoch’s other hand against his back to kneel on his hands and knees on the floor. 

For as focused on driving Julio insane he was, Tenoch’s short-lived patience must have run out, because Julio barely notices Tenoch place a bracing hand on his lower back before he’s pushing in. 

Julio’s breath leaves him in a heated rush. 

Tenoch is almost too slick inside him, threatening to slip out with every uncoordinated thrust, but it’s better than the alternative that Julio had been subconsciously bracing himself for. 

He’s just starting to ease into it, dipping his back into an arch, when Tenoch hits against something inside him and it lights Julio up like a live wire, zinging pleasure through every nerve in his body and it can’t be possible— _it can’t_ —but suddenly he’s coming without a hand on his dick. It’s almost painful how good it is, how quick it rose up within him, and Julio has never heard himself make more desperate noises in his life, choking out a sob as the last dredges of orgasm are wrung out of his body. 

The corners of his eyes feel wet and his limbs must’ve failed in the last few seconds because he’s slumped onto the floor, boneless, and he doesn’t think that’ll change any time soon. 

“That wasn’t even two minutes,” Tenoch laughs, and Julio burns red with shame. 

“No,” he slurs, still drowsy with pleasure and Tenoch just laughs harder. “Fuck off. I’ll do it to you and you won’t do any better.”

Tenoch is silent for a beat too long. Julio twists his head to look back at him, but Tenoch is leaned over his back, hair covering any expression on his face as he fists his dick. 

Julio can barely see the dumb slackness of Tenoch’s bottom lip as he pants and Julio turns back to bury his face in his arms. Tenoch can clearly take care of himself.


	3. Mode Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julio has always seen himself as an extension of Tenoch, a reaction to Tenoch’s action, and it makes sense in a way, existing in pleasure as a counterpoint to Tenoch’s actions.

“Fuck yourself on it,” Tenoch says. His voice is as hard as the unrelenting pressure of Tenoch’s cock and all Julio can do is pant into the damp twist of sheets bunched between his wrists. 

The idea of it fills him with a heady mix of shame and fierce, scorching arousal that makes his hips drop in response. He can practically taste it on the back of his tongue, the way his thighs would shake with the angle, how he’d have no hope of establishing any kind of rhythm, the agonizing friction making him lose it with each push. He could come from it though. He wants to come from it. 

“You’re the one that wants it so bad,” Tenoch adds, and it’s like a punch to the gut with how nonchalant he is, like he could walk away right now and leave Julio here, desperate and empty, and he’d be no worse for wear. The worst part is that he’s right. Still, Julio can’t help but plant his knees, spread his palms flat against the sheets, and sink back onto Tenoch’s cock in an unconscious roll. 

Tenoch moans from behind him and something in Julio’s chest thrills from it. He made Tenoch sound like that and he can do it again and again. 

He feels so full, spread in just the right way that he almost tries to protest when Tenoch pushes on his lower back to prompt him to move. He wants to stay here, seated on Tenoch’s cock for hours—days even, but that won’t make Tenoch groan into his ear and grip his hips so tight they leave bruises that last into the next day. 

Julio rocks forward on his forearms, resting his head between his splayed palms and almost chokes at the fireworks of pleasure each inch of movement elicits. 

One of Tenoch’s hands comes down to press between Julio’s shoulders, the tips of his fingers barely brushing the too long strands of Julio’s hair. 

It’s harder to move. He can’t get any momentum built up without the help of his upper body, but it’s almost better this way. Julio can only sink so far down before he can’t move anymore and it has to be what Tenoch likes because he’s murmuring praise under his breath between groans. 

Julio can’t hear it all. He only catches snatches of phrases, things like _that’s right, work for it_ , and _you’re so fucking pink_ , but it all makes his breath come shorter and his dick feel heavy and aching between his legs. 

It’s the last one though— _you’re so fucking pink_ —that makes him want to bury his face in the sheets just so that Tenoch can’t see his face burn. Because that’s just it, isn’t it? Julio is barely holding on, fucking himself onto Tenoch’s dick and drooling into the mattress, delirious on pleasure and Tenoch can see all of it; Julio’s hole clinging to Tenoch’s dick with each frenetic push and pull, the arch of his back from Tenoch’s hand that Julio isn’t even fighting against. Julio has always seen himself as an extension of Tenoch, a reaction to Tenoch’s action, and it makes sense in a way, existing in pleasure as a counterpoint to Tenoch’s actions. 

He _aches_ with it though. His dick feels like it’s bright red, swollen with how turned on he is, and he can feel the sway of where precome has dropped down to connect his dick to the mattress. He just—he _needs_ to be touched. 

“Tenoch,” Julio just barely manages not to sob. He presses harder back against the hand Tenoch has against his shoulders so that he can get more of Tenoch’s dick in him. “Tenoch, you piece of shit, touch me. Fuck me—I…”

Tenoch presses him down harder and Julio wants to beg, to plead, no no no, but Tenoch just uses the hand to ground himself as he fucks his hips in and Julio can only let out a relieved groan in response. 

Tenoch is uneven and choppy, but Julio can feel his thighs start to shake anyway and he reaches a hand down to fist his sticky cock. He wants Tenoch to hit that spot that made him feel like he was being flayed apart last time, but Tenoch doesn’t—can’t, probably, because neither of them are experienced enough or know enough about this to even know how to do it properly. It doesn’t seem to matter. Everything feels overwhelmingly heady anyway and the first touch of Julio’s hand on his own cock makes him keen, clenching tight and he feels Tenoch come first, mouthing at Julio’s shoulder and barely keeping himself up on trembling arms. And he—he can _feel_ it. Tenoch’s come is more like a warm pressure than anything, but Julio knows what it is, is intimately aware that it’s the first time Tenoch has ever come in someone without a condom and he wants it to stay that way, wants Tenoch to decide that Julio is it, his best and only. 

Julio comes with Tenoch’s name on his lips and Tenoch’s cock still in his ass and he deliriously thinks that it’s the only way he ever wants to come again. 

He’s still coming down from it, slumped flat onto the mattress under the warm weight of Tenoch’s body and idly wishing Tenoch would press kisses into his hair when Tenoch pulls out and rolls off of him to rummage around in his bedside drawer. 

The chill of the air is a shock and with it his common sense comes back. Julio rolls over and then rolls right back at the feeling of come sliding out of his hole and settles with pulling a sheet up to cover himself. 

Tenoch laughs at him as he lights up a joint. “What? You fucking shy now or something?” He tugs at the top of the sheet and Julio shoves him away, bundling the sheet under his chest to keep it there. 

“It's cold,” he says, pointedly ignoring how it’s Mexico City in the early heat of summer. Julio takes the joint when Tenoch offers it to him. The smoke clears his head, ironically, and he rests his head on his crossed arms after he passes it back. 

Tenoch is all skinny limbs and smooth skin as he rests against the headboard. His arm rests against his raised knee, joint dangling between his fingers and Julio can’t help but think he looks unbearably cool, like some kind of Hollywood film star, which is probably the only reason Tenoch is even doing it. His spent cock is still half swollen and it’s shiny and wet where it rests against Tenoch’s thigh. 

Julio doesn’t look away from it as he asks, “Why are you such an asshole when we do it?”

Tenoch shrugs, all yuppie confidence and ease, and Julio can feel himself falling again and again. “You have such a problem with it then say something.” 

Julio looks at the headboard, bites his tongue, and says nothing.


	4. Assignment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tenoch didn’t leave him because they had sex. He left because it was the first time Julio had said that he loved him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final installment and my only notes are: Julio is my favorite can you tell? In the spirit of the film, here’s more coming of age via emotional denial and ill-advised sexual experiences

It’s going so well that Julio inevitably manages to fuck it up. Maybe that says something about him; he’s just not sure if it means he’s an optimist or a fool. 

“Get off of me,” Julio whines, crushed underneath the lethargic, post-climactic sprawl of Tenoch’s body. Tenoch grunts into his neck and doesn’t move, because he is one of the laziest people Julio has ever met, and also he’s a jackass. Julio huffs, and tries to hide his fond smile in the pillows as he wiggles around to dislodge Tenoch. 

“Fuck off,” Tenoch mumbles. He lifts his head from Julio’s neck and Julio’s eyes are drawn to where his hair sticks to his forehead and cheeks with sweat. Julio has an urge to reach up and brush it off of his face and so he does it, letting his fingers follow Tenoch’s face to the vulnerable spot behind his ear. 

The moment feels unbearably tender and saturated with something that Julio has felt settle inside his heart for months. Looking up at Tenoch, at his subdued, cocky smile, he allows that feeling to lap at the shores of his consciousness, and grins. “You look so stupid.”

“Oh, you think so, fucker?” 

Tenoch digs his fingers into Julio’s ribs and grins when Julio lets out a shriek of laughter. He tries to dodge the elbow that Julio throws in retaliation—self-defense, Julio will maintain—and they end up rolling around on the bed, messing the sheets further into disrepair, but Julio doesn’t care as long as the bright feeling inside of him stays there. 

Tenoch pulls him in with a lanky arm around Julio’s shoulders and squeezes him briefly in an approximation of a headlock, but is really more like a hug. Julio can feel himself laugh into Tenoch’s skin, and when Tenoch doesn’t pull his arm away, Julio takes a second to feel his heart beat before he settles more comfortably against Tenoch’s shoulder. 

He’s so fucking full of love, can practically feel it pouring out of him and he hides his smile in Tenoch’s collarbone. “I’m thinking about breaking up with Ceci,” Julio says, holding his fingers still where they want to tap out a nervous rhythm on Tenoch’s chest. 

Tenoch doesn’t even stiffen up long enough for Julio to regret the words; he pulls away so quickly that Julio’s head hits the bed before he even knows it. 

Tenoch looks pale, but his face is tipping between nonchalant and annoyed, like he can’t figure out which emotion he’s actually feeling. “Why would you do that?” he asks in a way that makes it clear that he knows why and doesn’t like the answer. 

“I...“ Julio feels sick. The rosebud feeling of before is shriveled up right when he thought it was about to bloom and—he’d thought that maybe, just maybe—but it doesn’t matter. He was wrong. Still, he can’t help but plead, “Tenoch, you—you know.” 

Julio has never felt more naked in his life and it’s an afterthought to how his heart is breaking, but he desperately wishes he was wearing something. 

“You’re not breaking up with Ceci,” Tenoch says, steel in his voice and his eyes. “And I’m not breaking up with Ana. There’s nothing to do that for.”

And it’s final. All of it. They’re done, whatever they were even doing anyway, and Julio wants to feel angry because Tenoch isn’t the only person that can decide something like that, but he mostly just feels empty. He thought maybe he’d cry, if life wanted to really embarrass him, but he can’t even muster up any tears. 

“Right,” Julio says, picking at a stray thread on one of Tenoch’s posh pillow cases. Tenoch’s come hasn’t even finished drying against his skin. “Your dick is shaped weird anyway.”

It startles a laugh out of Tenoch, a real one, and it doesn’t feel like it should be possible, but Julio laughs too. 

Tenoch shoves at Julio’s head and Julio grapples back on instinct, and he’s just going through the motions, really, but maybe that’s just it. Maybe all he needs to be happy is having Tenoch in his life in any way. 

Maybe he doesn’t need anything extra at all. 

—-

Maybe can go fuck itself, Julio decides.

He doesn’t notice it at first. How he pushes into Tenoch’s space like it’s a challenge, daring him to pretend that there’s nothing between them, no heated magnetism that makes Tenoch’s eyes linger on his neck or brush against his thigh and it’s— _such bullshit_. Julio could scream himself hoarse with how angry he is about it, and he would do it too, if it weren’t for the way Tenoch pulls father away the more Julio pushes. 

In hindsight, it’s not so surprising that Julio sleeps with Ana. 

He’s—

He doesn’t know what he is, other than angry. 

She looks nothing like Ceci, and he’s momentarily guilty for thinking it, but he’s looking for someone who is nothing like Ceci anyway (but sometimes he’s looking for someone exactly like Ceci and that makes everything even more confusing because _what is he_ ). Ana’s hair is short where he grips it between his fingers while she takes him in her mouth, and when she lays down and pulls him on top of her, her small chest melts into her torso and he doesn’t even have to close his eyes to picture what he wants. 

And it’s—it feels so _good_ when he presses close enough that their chests are flush together and when he pushes into her all he can think is, _Tenoch has done this before. Tenoch has done this right here_. It makes his breath stutter out quicker and he can see Ana’s eyebrows furrow as he loses his rhythm so quick, but it’s overwhelming in the best kind of way. He’s imagining it, probably, but he swears he can feel how Tenoch has carved a path in her for him, can see where Tenoch has touched her before and Julio puts his hands there too, just so he can pretend that their hands are linked together on her skin.

He feels pathetic afterwards, disgusted at himself for not even feeling guilty until he bumps into Tenoch no less than two minutes after leaving the room he just fucked Ana in. 

“Hey,” Tenoch says, grinning at him from behind his shaggy hair. Julio hates that he wants to lean up into him, like a flower blooming under the sun, so he purposely hunches his shoulders in the opposite direction. “You seen Ana?”

He thinks he probably smells a little bit like Ana’s perfume and— _fuck_ , what was he thinking? Tenoch could’ve walked in on them, _anyone_ could’ve walked in on them and snitched to Tenoch, and it’s not like Julio wouldn’t deserve it. 

Julio chokes down his panic and shrugs. “Your girlfriend sick of you too?” he asks, and he lifts his cup for a drink to hide the wince he makes when the words come out a little too sharp. 

Tenoch just laughs, too drunk to care, and drapes an arm across Julio’s shoulders. He leans in close and Julio can feel himself opening up to it again, wants to bring their lips together in the exact way that they fit together, but Tenoch nips playfully at his cheek and says, “You’ll never be sick of me,” like the words aren’t devastating. 

The air is too thick and his heart is beating too fast. Julio can feel the yes on his tongue. Yes to Tenoch being right, yes to the painful reality of now, where Julio wants anything and everything, and gets nothing. 

Tenoch slides away before Julio’s tongue unties itself, and if he feels a brush of lips against his cheek, it’s probably just Julio’s imagination. 

He leans against a wall to catch his breath and he wants to tear at his own skin. He can still feel the heat lingering where Tenoch touched him, and he almost wants to run his hands over those spots to press the sensation in so that it’ll stay longer. His jaw aches from where he’s clenched it and _he can’t do this_. It’s exhausting, this pendulum of emotions that revolve around Tenoch. He’s full of even more tension than before he had sex with Ana, because there’s even more things to be upset about. He thought it’d make him feel better, but he still feels as unsteady as before. 

It doesn’t stop him from doing it again though. 

—-

Boca del Cielo is the first time Tenoch lets Julio fuck him. 

It’s also the last time they ever touch each other. 

Julio wants to remember it all in blinding clarity, wants to hold it close to his heart for years to come, when his hair goes gray and his knees ache when it starts to rain; instead, he only remembers it in bright flashes of skin and hot caresses. 

He remembers kissing Tenoch first. He remembers Tenoch not knowing where to put his hands right away, hovering in the air by Julio’s cheeks until he ran his fingers through Julio’s hair only to grip it tight right at the choppy ends. 

He remembers Luisa, seductive in ways him and Tenoch could never even hope to achieve, crooning in his ear, “You should fuck him, Julio,” and feeling Tenoch gasp against his lips.

He remembers there being hands everywhere—on him, in him, in someone else—a blur until the moment he’d pushed into Tenoch and they’d stared at each other, open mouthed and stupid, but so achingly in love. 

It hurts to think of it now, how naive he’d been in the moment. 

_I love you_

Tenoch had cried, and at the sight of tears something in Julio’s chest had gone cold. 

_Does it hurt?_

_It’s not like that._

He remembers the look on Tenoch’s face the next morning, pale and sick and _angry_ —the type of anger that Julio himself had felt himself not so long ago, but Tenoch has always been more stubborn than him, so it makes sense that he’s clung to that rage and made it a part of himself. 

It’s not like that, Tenoch had said. Well, Julio has had enough time feeling that kind of anger that he can read between the lines of Tenoch’s deflection. I’m not like that. I’m not like you. I don’t feel that way. 

It’s almost worse knowing that Tenoch does, but the only thing holding himself back is himself. 

Julio tries explaining it to Daniel once, when he’s so drunk that he feels like he’s spinning while laying down, but Daniel is just as drunk and all he can do is blink in response. He means it as a cautionary tale, but it comes out unbearably sad when he says that Tenoch didn’t leave him after Boca del Cielo because they had sex. 

Daniel scrunches his face up like he doesn’t understand, but Julio suddenly finds that he can’t make himself say the next words. Daniel doesn’t push, and for that Julio is grateful, because his throat is tight with emotion and regret. 

He never ends up telling anyone, but the truth of it all sits heavy in his chest when he finds himself still for too long. 

Tenoch didn’t leave him because they had sex. He left because it was the first time Julio had said that he loved him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why I can't seem to ever make these boys happy at the end, but damn do they hurt so good

**Author's Note:**

> I’ll potentially make more chapters of this if I need another good writers block fix. Also I'm unsure about the rating because the difference between M and E is a very thin line to me so let me know if you think I should change it to E.


End file.
